by Merv Lambert
Title Page
COLIN AND THE MAGIC BOOKMARK
By
Merv Lambert
Publisher Information
Colin And the Magic Bookmark published in 2010 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Merv Lambert
The right of Merv Lambert to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Colin The Librarian
Colin was an unremarkable little man, who worked in the library.
It was Tuesday morning and his least favourite person had just walked in.
“Oh, horror, horror!” he thought. Mrs. Biggle was big. She was always very bad tempered and unpleasant with everyone, including her husband and her children, but especially to her husband and Colin. Perhaps it was because Colin, being small, reminded her of her husband. She came striding into the library carrying two large shopping bags. Out of the first she took two DVDs and threw them rudely on the counter. Out of the second she took two books, which she also threw rudely on the counter. Colin picked up the two DVDs, ‘The Black Mask of Castle Zorn’ and ‘The Luvvy Duvvy Wuvvies on Holiday’. “Ugh!” he shuddered. He thought the Black Mask was probably for Mr. Biggle and the children. The second was certainly Mrs. Biggle’s choice. She was always taking out for herself what Colin thought were horrible yukky books. Colin never read them. He didn’t think Mr. Biggle read very much. Quickly he passed the DVDs and books over the scanner.
“Late again, Mrs. Biggle. These are all overdue,” he said. “The fine is £4”
“No! I’m not paying any fine!” shouted Mrs. Biggle. “You must have stamped the wrong date on them.”
“No, no, no,” replied Colin wearily. He knew Mrs. Biggle was always like this. She always got her own way, as the chief librarian Mr. Jellysox lived in the same street and was afraid of her.
“I want to see the manager!” bellowed Mrs. Biggle.
“You mean you want to see the chief librarian,” said Colin.
Forewarned by Mrs. Biggle’s shouting, Mr. Jellysox appeared from his office and approached nervously. He was a quite tall but tubby man. He always wore a yellow waistcoat and ghastly ties with colours that clashed horribly with it. Today’s was a sickly lime green. He was also wearing bright yellow socks. His little eyes hid behind pebble glasses.
“Er, good morning, Mrs. Biggle,” he said, wringing his hands anxiously. He knew what was coming. This had happened before.
Mrs. Biggle did not bother to say “Good morning”. She glared at Mr. Jellysox, who seemed to wobble in fright. This was because he really was wobbling in fright.
“Would you like to come and sit in my office, Mrs. Biggle?” he said.
Mrs. Biggle took no notice of what he said. Instead she pointed at Colin and started shouting again.
“How dare this idiot say that my library books and DVDs are overdue!”
“I’m not an idiot…,” Colin started to speak, but was interrupted by Mrs. Biggle.
“He always stamps the wrong date on them!”
“But…but…” stammered Mr. Jellysox.
“He does it on purpose!” roared Mrs. Biggle.
“No, no, I…” said Colin.
“No, no, he…” said Mr. Jellysox.
“Oh, yes he does!” shouted Mrs. Biggle, interrupting them both.
Since Mrs. Biggle refused to listen to anything they said, Colin grew more and more angry, but Mr. Jellysox grew more and more worried and terrified. Besides, she lived on the same street as him and could be a most annoying neighbour.
“Oh dear! Oh dear!” sighed Mr. Jellysox in dismay.
“Oh no! Oh no!” thought Colin. “Not again!” He knew that Mr. Jellysox would give in. Mr. Jellysox gave in. Colin knew exactly what Mr. Jellysox would say. He had said these words so often before.
“All right, Mrs. Biggle. You don’t have to pay any fines. Colin, go and stamp today’s date on the books and DVDs Mrs. Biggle has just brought in.”
Colin was furious. He turned on his heel and went to do what his boss, Jellysox, had just told him to do.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Biggle walked out of the library, carrying two new books and two new DVDs. She had not handed over the money. Once again she had won. Mr. Jellysox slunk back,exhausted and ashamed, into his office.
Colin loved his job and shortly afterwards, as he was walking round among the bookshelves, he saw an old book that he had not noticed before. He put out his hand to take it. It had a dark leather cover and it felt warm to the touch. The faded gold letters on the front were not easy to read. Colin opened the book and read the title inside - ‘Colin’s Book’. He could hardly believe his eyes. There seemed to be lots of interesting and exciting things in it. Then his fingers touched something hidden in the pages. It looked like an ancient bookmark also made of leather and with a beautiful bird on it. Colin recognised it. It was a phoenix. The bookmark was dark blue but the feathers of the phoenix glowed red. Colin gently stroked them and he sensed a warm glow. He felt very calm and confident. It was almost as if the book were speaking to him aloud, saying, “You are my rightful owner. You always try to do the right thing.” Colin, bewildered, shook his head. He noticed that there was no card inside the book cover for stamping the date for it to be returned. It did not belong to the library then. The book was telling him it belonged to him. Thoughtfully Colin carried the volume back to his desk and slid it into the pocket of his overcoat.
His good mood lasted all day. Finally, when it was time to go home, he tucked the bookmark into the top pocket of his jacket and put on the overcoat with the book still inside it. He began to walk home.
He had just got to Bluebottle Lane, where the Biggles and Mr. Jellysox lived, when he heard some shouting and snarling. He saw a very large boy dragging a very small dog on a lead along the pavement. The little dog was obviously afraid and did not want to go with him. The shouting and the snarling were coming from the boy.
“Come on!” the boy shouted and aimed a kick at the dog. “I hate having to take a stupid little animal like you for walks!”
Without thinking about it, Colin dashed forward. The bookmark seemed to be glowing more warmly in his pocket.
“Stop that!” he yelled.
The boy looked up, startled.
“Mind your own business!” he snarled. “Clear off, Shorty!” (Only those were not his exact words.)
“That’s no way to treat a little dog!” said Colin, ignoring the boy’s raised fist.
“I said, ‘Clear off’!” shouted the boy. (Again that is not exactly what he said.)
Suddenly Colin knew just what to do. He snatched the dog’s lead from the boy’s hand and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.
“Listen,” he said through gritted teeth. “Animals are supposed to be dumb. You are worse. You really are dumb. Understand? By dumb I mean stupid. You’re a really dumb dumbo.”
The boy had never met anyone with such a strong grip. The next moment, still grasping him by his shirt, Colin with one hand had lifted him off
his feet and, whirling him round above his head, had thrown him through the thick hedge by the side of the road.
“Aaah! Ow!” howled the boy. Sharp twigs stuck out from him everywhere. He looked like a creature grown from a hedge.
“Hello, Twiggy!” called one of a group of older boys from his school, who happened to be passing by.
“I’ll take the dog and look after him properly,” said Colin, and set off down the street with it trotting happily beside him.
“Urgh! Ug! Grook!” The boy tried to say something, but had to remove a large twig from his mouth first. Finally he wailed, “Just you wait! I’ll get the police on you!”
Colin took no notice. The bookmark felt nice and warm in his pocket.
Later that evening Colin had just given the little dog his first meal at his house, when there was a knock at the front door. He opened it. A large policeman stood there next to an equally large woman. It was Mrs. Biggle.
“Evening, sir,” said the policeman. I’m Police Constable Wright.”
Mrs. Biggle said nothing. She just did her usual thing. She glared angrily at Colin.
“Well, officer, what do you want?” asked Colin.
The policeman shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Well, sir, do you own a dog?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”
“This lady says that you have stolen her dog. May I see your dog, sir?”
“Yes, of course. Come in. Come in.”
The policeman stepped into the house and followed Colin into the kitchen. Mrs. Biggle hurried in too.
“That’s him! That’s my Boggle!” she cried, pointing at the dog. The little animal, obviously frightened, had run to hide behind Colin.
“Is it?” asked the policeman.
Colin had already decided what was the right thing to say. The bookmark seemed to glow warm in his pocket. There was no way that he would let the little dog go back to a horrible family, who would mistreat it, and although it was not the truth, what he said next was the right thing.
“No, no, this isn’t Boggle Biggle. It’s Sammy. Here, boy.” Kneeling down he coaxed the small dog to come to him. He stroked it. It looked up at him lovingly.
“Come here, Boggle!” snapped Mrs. Biggle, stepping angrily towards the dog and into a little puddle it had just made on the floor. The dog hid, whimpering, behind Colin, who said, “Well, officer, who do you think is the owner?”
“Let me look at his collar,” said P.C. Wright. “Well, it’s got his name Sammy and this address,” he continued.
Colin had really been quite clever, for he had kept the collar worn by his other dog, which had died some years ago.
“Hmm.” P.C. Wright also thought he knew what to do. He noticed that Colin had a certain sharp, steely way of looking at him. Colin was willing him to make the right decision. He made the P.C. Wright decision, and turning to Mrs. Biggle, he said, “It seems clear to me that Sammy belongs here. “As there is no evidence that the dog is yours, I feel sure it’s a case of mistaken identity. If you want to take this further, madam, you could take the matter to court, but I’m not certain you would win, and it could cost you a lot of money.”
“But,…but…,” stammered Mrs. Biggle, who was used to getting her own way always.
“No buts, madam,” continued P.C. Wright. “I’m telling you it must be a case of mistaken identity.”
“But this man threw our Bradley through a hedge this afternoon!”
Looking at Colin, the policeman shook his head.
“No, I don’t think so. Bradley is a big lad and this gentleman does not really look as if he could do that. We’re going now, madam.” He shook hands with Colin. “Thank you for your time, sir,” he said, and he almost pushed the angry Mrs. Biggle out of the house. Sammy yapped happily and ran to Colin.
The next morning Colin was again working in the library. The bookmark was still tucked in his pocket. It felt warm. He felt confident. Suddenly Mrs. Biggle stormed through the front door, dragging her husband behind her. He was a small, worried-looking man with a little toothbrush moustache.
“There he is!” she shouted, pointing at Colin. “Do something, Biggle!”
Mr. Biggle shrugged his shoulders helplessly and said nothing.
“Ah, Mrs. Biggle, just the person I wanted to see,” smiled Colin. “Thank you for coming in so soon. I have spoken to Mr. Jellysox and persuaded him that you really should pay the fines you owe the library. Four pounds please.” And he held out his hand. Mrs. Biggle was about to hit it with her umbrella, when she noticed a certain steely look in Colin’s eyes. She froze.
The bookmark was still giving off a warm glow in Colin’s pocket. “Of course, if you pay this time, we’ll be prepared to forget all the others you have not paid, but in future you will not bully anyone here. Is that clear?”
Pierced by Colin’s firm gaze, Mrs. Biggle was already reaching into her purse. She put four one pound coins down on the counter, turned and stomped out. Her husband, amazed, winked at Colin and gave him a thumbs-up sign, as he left.
Already Colin was thinking that he needed to begin reading his new old book. He had a strange feeling that something exciting was just starting. The phoenix bookmark glowed and pulsed in his pocket, as if agreeing with him.
Colin’s First Adventure
Before setting off for work the next day Colin made sure that little Sammy had everything he needed.
We’ll go for a walk later,” Colin told him.
The morning seemed to pass quite quickly for Colin. He enjoyed serving the people who came into the library. The bookmark glowed warmly in his pocket. He was happy because of his new friend, the little dog, and the confidence his new book seemed to have given him. Mrs. Biggle did not appear. He had heard that she was talking about going to the other branch of the library on the other side of town. Even Mr. Jellysox was smiling.
At lunchtime Colin went home and was greeted joyfully by Sammy. He played a game of ball with him in the garden and then the little dog settled happily on his cushion in the kitchen ready for a nap.
The afternoon passed as happily for Colin as the morning had, and after going for a short walk around the field at the back of their house, both he and Sammy settled down for the evening. Colin watched the news on T.V., switched off the set and sank into his comfortable armchair. Just as he opened his special book, Sammy hopped up onto his lap.
Colin’s fingers seemed to be directed to a particular page by the book itself. The bookmark glowed warmly in his pocket. He found himself beginning a story that took place on board a ship. It was a large, ancient sailing ship. It was dark. It was stormy, and waves were crashing over the side of the ship. Suddenly Colin realised that he really had been soaked by the last wave. It was also windy and cold, but the bookmark was glowing and apparently keeping him warm. He looked down at his feet and saw that he was wearing boots, and then he saw that he was also wearing black trousers and over a black sweater a shabby black coat. Sammy was in the large inside pocket of his coat and was whimpering softly. They really were on the deck of a ship.
“You there!” roared a voice.
Colin looked round and saw a huge, ugly man with black bushy eyebrows that joined in a straight line above his eyes.
“Aye, you there!” roared the man again. “Get up those lines and loose that sail. It’s jammed.”
Although the wind was howling and the deck of the ship was moving up and down on the angry sea, Colin stood his ground.
“Why should I?” he said. He could feel the bookmark glowing warmly, tucked safely in the pocket of his shirt.
“What?” The tough-looking sailor’s voice grew even louder.
“Why should I?” repeated Colin.
“Because I say so. I’m the bosun of this ship. Everyone obeys me, except Cap’n Twitch of course. So get up that rigging and loose that sail.”
The other man shouted even more loudly. “Get up there and loose the sail. That’s an order!”
“Not to me it isn’t,” replied Colin. “I’m not one of your crew.”
“What? You’re a stowaway then.”
“No.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then for the last time I’m telling you to get up that mast!”
“For the last time I’m telling you no,” said Colin still standing firmly despite the rolling of the ship’s deck.
“Listen, you…” growled the bosun with a sneer on his face. He stepped forward and brought the single line of his eyebrows close to Colin’s face. He stretched out his massive right hand to grasp the lapel of Colin’s coat and then screeched, “Yaaah!” pulling his hand away. Sammy had raised his head and bitten him with his sharp little teeth.
“Hellzbellznbeelzebub!” cursed the bosun. “Why, you little pipsqueak, I’ll throw you up that mast!”
“I don’t think so,” replied Colin calmly. “I warn you. You’ll come off worse.”
Suddenly the bosun charged head down at Colin, who neatly sidestepped, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and with a surge of power helped him on his way until…Crack!…his huge strong head met the even stronger mainmast. He lay there on the deck stunned.
“I wouldn’t advise you to try that again,” murmured Colin.
“Yap, yap!” agreed Sammy.
At that moment a young boy about 13 years old appeared out of the darkness.
“I saw you,” he said. “He won’t like it, when he wakes up.”
“I suppose not,” said Colin. “And who are you?”
“I’m Jakie,” said the boy.
“I’m a visitor,” explained Colin. “Call me Colin. And this is Sammy.” The little dog licked Jakie’s hand.